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Rebellion Record: a Diary of American Events: Documents and Narratives, Volume 5. (ed. Frank Moore), chapter 78 (search)
e and thin, his beard and his clothing were clotted with blood, his face was bandaged, concealing a ragged and painful wound in his nether jaw — it was enough to make a Sphynx weep to look upon the work of an awful day upon such a man. His voice was husky from his exhortations and battle-cries, and tremulous with emotion, when, grasping my hand, he said with exquisite pathos: My friend, many of my poor fellows lie in those forests. It is terrible to leave them there. Blakeney is wounded, McGonigle is gone, and many will see us no more. We are hungry and exhausted, and the enemy — the forest is full of people — are thundering at our heels. It is an awful affliction. We will fight them, feeble as we are — but with what hope! To know such a man; to feel how keenly he realized the situation; to watch his quivering lips and sad play of features, usually so joyous — O friends! it was anguish itself. And there was a townsman of yours there, who won imperishable honor — William G